


Masquerade

by spinsters_grave



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, Not the siren au i think you're thinking of, can't think of tags can't think of a summary so what is the gotdamn POINT, d e c o r u m, it's hella gay, just take this and i'll appreciate it, siren au, yeah i don't really know how to tag this and it's late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 20:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12660645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsters_grave/pseuds/spinsters_grave
Summary: If you were lucky, it would be one of them that whispered their secrets to you at midnight, when all was supposed to be revealed. But only if you were lucky.It feels like there's oceans between us, once again.





	Masquerade

If you were lucky, it would be one of them that whispered their secrets to you at midnight, when all was supposed to be revealed. But only if you were lucky. 

 

Shay did not yet know if she was one of the lucky ones. She hadn’t the opportunity before this to test her luck—only the marriage of her brother to someone with connections allowed her onto the temporary platform, constructed of hundreds of planks of smooth wood; herself clothed in a fine red dress, a Venetian mask across her eyes. Earlier in her life, she would have named it the fanciest item she owned. Now, however…. 

 

“And so it begins,” a voice whispered in Shay’s ear. She did not flinch; the voice was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. “Is it not spectacular, sister?”

 

“Indeed,” Shay said to her brother, keeping watch over the clamoring crowd, flashes of diamonds and pearls between the shifting bodies. “Thank you. Again. For this.”

 

“Anything for you,” Rax replied. “Masks on.”

 

Shay had known Rax for all the years she had been his little sister. In a crowd of millions, give her five minutes, and she would produce him. The planes of his face were one of her earliest memories. Still—with a fox mask slipped over his entire face—he became a stranger indistinguishable from the masses and masses of people on the twilight-lit beach. 

 

Rax laid a hand on Shay’s shoulder. His voice came distorted through the mask, but it did come through: “Have the merriest of nights, my dearest sister.”

 

With that, he turned into the crowd, and was thus lost. 

 

Shay watched him go as long as she could, the red panes of his suit flashing like the district of prostitutes through the crowd. Shay did not imagine she looked any better, or any different, in her own red dress. At least she and her mask matched. 

 

Now at the edge of the dance floor, close to the boundary marked by colorful paper lanterns, stood a few forlorn tables and plates of delicate pastries and desserts. Shay had, of course, eaten before the dance. They did not come here to eat, and she did not wish to stuff her face like some sort of animal. That would embarrass her brother and his wife. She made her way over anyway. 

 

Beyond the lanterns stretched a vast, endless beach. The sand would be golden in the daytime; particles of silica and miniscule rocks that got in uncomfortable places that people loved anyway. But now, in the rapidly dimming dusk, the sand was no different than the dark and treacherous ocean next to it. Only the rainbow of the lanterns separated their world and the world of the sirens. 

 

“Miss,” called an attendant, urgency written in his voice, perhaps spotting the dangerous position Shay found herself in—the edge. “Miss, please don’t step any further.”

 

The attendant stepped forward with one shiny black boot, one hand slightly extended to match. Did he see how common Shay was? Did he suspect she did not truly belong among those people, with their cloying perfume and sparkling shoes and family names? Did he know the effect he held over Shay? The way his scolding, gentle as it was meant to be, sent shocks of shame up and down her spine? Did he know how young and small he made her feel?

 

“Of course,” Shay murmured, retreating a few steps. 

 

“Thank you,” the attendant said. “We don’t want anyone to lose themselves out on the beach tonight.”

 

“Of course,” Shay thought she said, but perhaps the whisper of air carrying the words were too light, brushed away by the breeze before they hit the man’s ears. 

 

The attendant returned to his position next to the food table. His white jacket reflected the colors of the lanterns he so zealously guarded. 

 

Shay could not eat now, not when her scolder stood such careful watch over the food. Nor could she sit—the tables were under his domain. Did he know what power he wielded? So she stood at the edge of the crowd filled with cloying perfume—perhaps Shay should have put some on herself, if only to fit in—filled with political chatter, desperate singles waiting for someone to ask them to dance, only accepting the special partners. 

 

Indeed, special were those partners. They were said to wear clothes that looked like the ever-shifting ocean, with necklaces of pearl and coral in their pockets. People said they smelled of the salt from the sea that bore them and that they would whisper your fortune or your future to you a minute before midnight, before the masks were to be lifted, when truth was held to the moonlight. 

 

Shay held out hope for them to take. Nothing came without a price, but with so many competing buyers, they wanted something interesting. Not money—the coins would only get wet, oxidize underneath the tumultuous waves. Anything with honest meaning at the moment. A memory, a feeling, a confession you didn’t dare tell your priest. Shay had asked if she would lose whatever she gave. Do you lose the stars if you show them to anyone else?

 

Left and right, front but not behind—there was no one behind Shay to take. People paired off, with someone special or not. In a split second, during the space between music notes, Shay spotted a fox with a red suit dancing with his wife. The ocean smell of the sirens was not enough to halt the stench of perfume from reaching Shay; it only created a mix. Shay was unsure if it was pleasant or not, leaning towards not—only in moderation could things be pleasant, otherwise they were simply gluttony. 

 

She had time to think of these things, to worry, to hope. The quartet in the corner let song after song float up above the dance, reaching to the ever-brightening moon and her stars. Perhaps Shay would not be lucky tonight. 

 

People threw her pitying glances through the eye holes of their masks, hidden behind the dark curve, making their eyes larger than they were. Shay held a fan along with her hope in her hands; though it was a summer night and supposed to be warm, the ocean cooled the air of the beach. There was nowhere for her to place the fan—if it had been only a year earlier, Shay would have put it in her bra and be done with it, but now there was decorum to think of. She placed it in the tabled domain of her scolder and gave it up for lost. 

 

“They are easily swayed by glittering jewelry and shiny faces,” said a voice that sounded like the crash of the ocean against a failing cliff. It reminded Shay of the eventuality of the sea—sooner or later, it would wear away everything humans thought they had created to outlast them, kingdoms and histories and palaces. 

 

Though the voice was unfamiliar, Shay did not flinch; there had been too many unfamiliar people tonight and for the past year for her to flinch from this. 

 

The speaker stepped out in front of Shay, her dress swirling around the floor like foamy waves lapping at the shore, even when she came to a standstill. Like the rest of her kind, she smelled of the briney sea—Shay drank it in as if the scent could save her. White hair billowed out from behind a red coral mask, soft as a cloud and drifting like one besides. It caught the colors of the paper lanterns, turning it into something esoteric—something mystical. 

 

“I am Shay,” she said. It was only polite to introduce herself. All of a sudden, she came to the realization that her red dress and her red mask was frivolous and cheap before the being in front of her. 

 

“People like you call me Allura,” said the siren with teeth as sharp as pointed wit or as a shark would own in rows. “Perhaps for my great allure.”

 

“Allura.” The name rolled off of Shay’s tongue like the honey she had tried once, in a room lined with gold brocade wallpaper and silently staring oil paintings. “Yeah. I mean—yes.”

 

Allura hummed deep in her throat, perhaps from amusement. She grabbed at her dress, fisting the material so that creases formed in the shifting ocean colors. Her heavy gaze was hidden under her coral mask—the shadows were too deep for Shay to see the colors of her eyes. She came to the conclusion that if she touched Allura’s dress, her hands would come away wet. 

 

“Come dance with me,” Allura said, all in a rush. She held out a hand for Shay to take. “I’ll lead—do you mind if I do?”

 

“Of course,” Shay said in allowance. She stared at the outstretched hand. Long ago, her mother had told her that long, delicate fingers were the signs of royalty. Allura had hands like that. Shay’s hands were large and bulky and common. She hesitated, then decided to take on delicacy tonight, before the chance was taken from her. “I do not normally dance.”

 

“Tonight, we can make many exceptions,” Allura replied, drawing Shay closer to her. 

 

Shay could not keep a smile from crossing her face. She did duck her head into her shoulder to keep Allura from seeing—someone had said years before that she had an ugly smile, someone young and perhaps blinded by jealousy to see how deep the words could cut. Shay had studied her reflection that night, noticing how her lips stretched tight across the tops of her teeth, how wrinkles formed in the corners of her eyes, how shiny and pink her exposed gums looked. 

 

“Your eyes are sparkling,” Allura whispered, in a voice that sounded like it wasn’t supposed to be spoken aloud. 

 

“Thank you,” Shay said before Allura could regret her words. It wasn’t very often people gave her compliments. She treasured the ones that meant something. 

 

Allura’s hand felt right on Shay’s waist, like it belonged. Wherever Allura dared venture, she would belong; if it came into her mind to waltz into the throne room and demand the crown, it would be hers. Hopefully she would dance in with Shay, to the tune of their own  _ Um pa pa. _

 

At first, it was only back and forth footwork; not enough to distract Shay from the pitying glances turned curious. Girls did not usually dance with each other, not in public waltzes. If they decided to waltz together, they should do it in the privacy of their own homes. 

 

Their skirts swirled around each other, blending sea and a fiery red sky. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, so they said. Allura twirled Shay around with one hand, like Rax used to do when they danced, younger, knowing less. Shay let her arms stretch out; she had the room to do so, even on the crowded dance floor. Maybe the other dancers knew that Shay had a special one. Maybe it was luck. 

 

Shay fell back to Allura like a cliff fell into the sea. She didn’t know if Allura squeezed their hands tighter together first, or if Shay was the first to crack an uncensored smile. They twirled around the dance floor like there was no tomorrow—and there really wasn’t. 

 

Shay was  _ happy. _ She was happy dancing with Allura. If only the night could never end, and they could wheel together forever, under the stars next to the briny ocean. They swung around the dance floor song after song, letting time melt away, wishing and hoping it could last forever. Of course it would not. 

 

“It’s almost midnight,” Allura whispered, breathless. “I cannot wait to see your face.”

 

“Already?” Shay asked, her heart thudding in her chest. “The night has just begun.” Even as she spoke the words, the quartet in the corner ceased to play, the signal to allow secrets to be whispered all across the dance floor. 

 

No. No, the dance  _ couldn’t _ be over already, Allura had just risen from the sea, just gotten here—she wasn’t ready to say good-bye. 

 

Shay’s eyes darted between Allura’s. They were so close, Shay and Allura, but now—Shay could see the oceans between them. 

 

“Please,” Allura whispered. “I don’t want to lose you. I can see you—”

 

“Take me away from here,” Shay whispered back. “Take me with you.”

 

“Where I go, you cannot follow.” Allura reached up to hold Shay’s face; Shay brought her hands up to hold Allura’s own, but gently, gently. 

 

“I want this.”

 

“Next year, I will come back—see you again—”

 

“Next year is too long. Rax is leaving—he will not come back here, and where he goes, as do I.” Shay had to make her see. She knew—and she knew Allura knew as well— “We belong together.”

 

The clock sang the first second of midnight; the new day. Allura surged up and kissed Shay, hard. All around them, people reached for their masks. 

 

Shay kissed her back. Her hands landed on Allura’s waist—indeed, as soon as she touched the fabric, her hands were soaked in seawater. 

 

Allura tasted of salt. Shay could feel a maelstrom in their kiss, the kind that laid waste to ships and pulled the sky to the bottom of the sea. 

 

The first siren pushed past them, bolting for the wine-dark sea. In a split second, they became a torrent, flooding past Shay and Allura. Shay made herself into a rock, to hold onto the kiss as long as possible. 

 

On the ninth second—or maybe the tenth—Allura ripped her mask off and flung it to the ground. The delicate coral shattered into a million pieces; the pearls rolled across the floor, where people started to pick them up. A siren’s pearl was special. People said it would whisper secrets in your ear at night, if you could see the ocean from your pillow. 

 

Shay ran her thumb over the pink markings high on Allura’s cheekbones; partly to feel them, partly to wipe away the single salty tear. Freed from the mask, Shay could see exactly how blue Allura’s eyes were, like the mix on the horizon of sky and sea at midday. 

 

Allura seized Shay’s hand and bolted in the direction of the sea, like her brethren before her. Allura’s grip and pace were steady, even when Shay stumbled over her heels. 

 

They had scant seconds. People said that if you kept a siren on land longer than the stroke of midnight, they would be stuck for seven years and a day. 

 

Shay tore her own mask off, letting the red ribbons and feathers loose into the sandy beach. Rax would find it. Hopefully, he would know she went willingly, with a smile on her face, surrounded by stars and sky and the salty, salty sea. 

 

Cold water touched her foot, then travelled up her legs, until Allura was diving down and down into the endless deep. Shay could do nothing but hold onto her hand and hope. When they stopped, some miles down, Shay couldn’t even care that she was drowning. 

 

The markings on Allura’s face shone like beacons, or lighthouses, through the dark. Farther off, more sirens could be seen; where they were going, Shay did not know. 

 

_ I will always want this, _ Shay wanted to say, but she knew the water would fill her lungs before she got the chance. That would be her eventual end anyway. Foolish—Shay could not find it in herself to regret it. 

 

Allura kissed her again, lips and tongue and teeth. Shay’s red, red dress floated up around them, closing them in, making the world soft and dreamlike, lit by Allura’s markings. 

 

“Nothing can even come  _ close _ to the way I feel with you,” Allura said in the space between kisses. 

 

_ I would rather drown than go on without you, _ Shay wished to say, even though it looked like that was going to be the outcome anyway. Already, her soft and dreamy world slipped through her fingers like fine sand. 

 

When Shay was younger, she and Rax would visit the seashore with their parents. They would splash in the waves, build the best sandcastles they could, race to see how many seashells they could collect before the waves came back in. Rax usually won, but he cheated. 

 

If Shay wanted to be quiet, she would sit in the shade of her mother’s parasol and let a handful of sand pass through her fingers until only the sticky pieces were left. She would marvel at the way some of the particles sparkled, or at the colors that didn’t show in the uniform golden yellow. 

 

If she was lucky, some of the pieces would be pink. But only if she was lucky. 

  
  


END

 

 

You may forget, but

Let me tell you

This: someone in

Some future time

Will think of us

-Sappho

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> SHE'S NOT DEAD SIREN KISSES LET PEOPLE BREATHE UNDERWATER!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading! This was written for the [Once Upon A Paladin event.](https://onceuponapaladin.tumblr.com/) Remember when I said like yesterday that I had other stories I wrote as birthday presents to myself?? This is one of them. I fuckin love this ship guys, you don't even know, they're just—I'm jUST—
> 
>  
> 
> _I'M GAY_
> 
>  
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr!!](https://reaadmydumbfanfiction.tumblr.com/) Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> [Here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqsL0QQaSP4) some mood music: Oceans by Seafret. 
> 
> Fun fact about this story: My school is starting up a literary magazine! I'm graduating in the spring though, so I'm not going to have many opportunities to put stuff in, sad face sad face. But! There is an issue coming out in December, and I have submitted this story after changing the names! Ah ha ha ha! ~~I let my friend read the changed version and he said it was like fanfiction so i died~~


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